Writing

Moon Writes: come, come

come, come,
look for me.
run, run,
you can find me.

stop,
don’t you know 
where
i am?

wait,
if you listen hard, 
if you glance this way,
you may catch me off guard.

A glimpse of a curl, 
pale paper skin peeking through my clothes,
the rise and fall of my chest,
hands holding breasts,
to protect the rhythm that hides.

A head full of dreams,
cradled in the sleep of the just,
’til it’s interrupted by screams…

oh wake me,
WAKE me! 
save me,
if you must…

here, here,
hold my head against your skin,
wrap your arms tight around me,
we’re free, we’re meant to be.


Little odd poem about many things, but mostly about panic attacks coming in the middle of the night and needing comfort and gentleness to deal with them. Again, something a little old since I haven’t written any new poetry in years, but I still like these little snippets of a time gone by that thankfully is now far away enough to look back to.

Fill this sky with stars...